All Night Long
by Isabella GL
Summary: It's Holly's birthday and she's all alone. After an epic fight with her daughter Blake, she turns to one man to get through the night, but will Roger pick up?
1. You Have Seven Messages

_The year of 1992 was a tough one for Holly, mainly because she discovered that her ex-fiancé Ross was seeing her daughter Blake. During the following months, Holly was depressed, and yes, sometimes bitter and vindictive. Still, and even though I love all three characters, I clearly rooted for Holly during that time. Before she could get better, however, she had to hit rock bottom, which finally happened on her birthday. And who did she reach out for then? Roger. This is my version of what could have happened that night. It starts the same as in the real show but then, as one reviewer said for another story of mine, I "slightly" tweaked the canon! Hope you enjoy it, it might be a long night._

* * *

Holly sat on the floor next to her bed, pictures of Blake and of Ross scattered around her. She glanced at the tabloid which had disclosed Ross's affair with her daughter, fronting the pictures that Holly herself had sent the news rag, and tossed it aside ragingly. She had not been that drunk in a very long time.

She took another gulp of white wine and winced. Her migraine was flaring up again, fuelled by the remembrances of her earlier fight with Blake, which had abruptly ended when she had shouted to her daughter that she had never loved her. Groaning in pain, she turned off the radio and picked up the phone. On the other end of the line, the machine picked up after several rings.

"_Oh, Roger," she started with an effort to speak clearly. "Why is your voice there and you are not? It's like it's ringing inside of my head…Only Blake keeps answering…Oh, I just…all this…stuff keeps repeating the things that don't bear repeating, just keep running around and around in my head and I…I need…I needed to talk." She ran one hand through her hair and closed her eyes. "You know, you are so…you…YOU! Hey, it was better to go out to dinner with Jenna than with me, cause…" Unable to go on, she just hung abruptly. _

_She turned to her nightstand and grabbed her bottle of migraine pills. "I got to call Ed," she muttered on the verge of despair. Before she could do so, or take another pill, however, she slowly slumped on the floor, losing all consciousness._

* * *

It was almost midnight when Jenna and Roger tumbled out of their second bar of the night. They had started with dinner at the Towers and had been merrily on the move since then. They sat on the sidewalk, getting a little too tipsy to stand, to decide their next move.

"You know what would be fun?" Jenna asked.

"What?" Roger replied, already laughing at her idea.

"We should go spend the rest of the night in Mexico," she announced with a light of excitement in her eyes.

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious."

Roger looked at her eager face and didn't think twice before answering: "Let's do it!" He got up and hailed a cab that was passing by. They both toppled into it, kissing like hormonal teenagers, to the annoyance of the driver. "Where to?" he snapped.

"To the airport!" Jenna said theatrically, raising an invisible glass in the air.

"Wait, I have to go get my passport," Roger added, giving his the address of his apartment to the driver.

"Tut-tut. You should always carry your passport with you. You're a man of the world; who knows when you might need it?" Jenna chastised him teasingly, before they resumed their kiss.

The taxi came to an abrupt halt ten minutes later in front of Roger's building. "Shall I wait for you here?" Jenna asked.

"Come up with me, it might take a while before I find it," he retorted, leaving way too much money to the driver, whose mood somewhat lifted. He hurriedly got out of the car and opened the door for them, but they barely noticed him. He watched them disappearing into the building and muttered, disgusted, "Easy to get a girl like that when you're as rich as he is."

Upstairs, Jenna headed to the bathroom to freshen up while Roger rummaged in his desk for his passport, whistling. He was still looking for it when he noticed the light beeping on his answering machine. He pressed the button out of habit, in case pressing business was at hand, and listened absent-mindedly while going through his drawers. He soon stopped and turned toward the machine, however, when he heard the automated voice announce that he had seven messages.

He felt a pang of guilt when he heard Holly's voice on the first one, wondering if he could call her back. He felt lousy for cancelling their dinner, especially since Blake had made him realize earlier that evening that it was Holly's birthday. The prospect of hearing her rehash her grievances against Blake and Ross had been too much for him to take, and he had, cowardly, he admitted it, decided to escape for a night on the town instead. Jenna had this way about her which made him feel like he was a young man again and that the whole world was within reach. He was her hero, whereas he hadn't been Holly's hero in a long, long time.

When the second message began to play Holly's voice, Roger frowned and started to sober up. He skipped it to the next message, and then the next, only to realize that she had been the one to call him seven times. By the time she had left the last message, her speech had become downright slurred and she was wondering incoherently why he would not pick up already. His heart now beating violently in his chest, Roger picked up the phone and dialled her number. When she didn't answer, he dropped the receiver on the table and bolted for the door.

Hearing the door slam, Jenna emerged from the bathroom, only to find the room empty, Roger gone, his passport lying on the floor.

* * *

It seemed to him that the cab would never get to Holly's house fast enough, but he knew that he was still too drunk to drive himself, so he tried to ease his nerves by barking orders at the driver so that he would turn this way or that. Throwing money on the passenger seat, he barely waited until the taxi had pulled up the driveway to jump out of the car and run to the front door. The lights were out.

"Holly!" he shouted, pounding on the door. "It's me, Roger. Open up!"

He banged for a few more seconds before stopping to listen, but he could not hear the slightest noise inside. "You'd better not be asleep or I swear…"he muttered before taking a few steps back and kicking the door open.

A few seconds sufficed to make sure that she was neither in the kitchen nor in the living room. He then ran to her bedroom and turned the lights on. At first, he thought that she was not there either, since her bed was empty, but the sight of the pills scattered on the floor, as well as the empty bottle of wine, made his insides churn in fear. He was about to go to the guest room when he finally spotted her hand jutting out from the other side of the bed. His heart skipped a beat and his legs almost failed him. "Holly!" he yelled, running to her side.

He kneeled beside her body and felt her heartbeat, which he found strong and steady. Breathing again, he proceeded to shake her frantically to make her come to her senses. When that failed, as well as the slapping, he finally tried to pick her in his arms, but being drunk himself, immediately lost balance and fell with her on the bed. Cursing loudly, he grabbed her arms and dragged her to the bathroom, where he dumped her unceremoniously in the shower.

He turned the water on; making sure that it as cold as possible. "I cannot believe that you are DOING this to me, Holly," he muttered, now furious. Still not responding, Holly kept sliding to bottom of the bathtub. Cursing again, Roger took his shoes off and stepped in to heave her back up, gasping as the icy water drenched his clothes. At last, Holly finally groaned and made a feeble attempt at shielding herself from the water.

She opened her eyes and squinted at Roger. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a raspy voice.

"You called me," he said, torn between relief and anger.

"Why are we in the shower together?" Holly added suspiciously, looking around her and starting to shiver.

"Never mind that for now; let's get you in some dry clothes," Roger replied, turning the water off. "Hey, are you ok?" he said, looking at her worryingly again. Holly has suddenly turned a nasty shade of green, and before she could answer, she had to lunge to the sink where she violently threw up.

Roger sighed, picking up a towel hanging on the back of the door to wipe her forehead. "So much for my glamorous evening."


	2. Black Coffee and Wet Hair

"You know, it is a testament to your beauty that I still find you attractive after watching you being sick," Roger said, following Holly to her bedroom and making sure that she did not trip on her own bare feet.

"Gee, Roger, thanks for making me feel like a woman again," Holly dead-panned, sitting on the end of the bed.

"Would it kill you to be a little more gracious? I just saved your life here," Roger replied, kneeling in front of her and rubbing her feet to get her blood circulation going.

"I was just sleeping!"

"Nah, you were passed out, big time. How are you feeling now?" Roger asked, looking at her and taking in her harassed look and her bedraggled hair.

"Hung over and cold."

"That makes two of us. Let's get into some dry clothes and then I'll make some coffee," Roger stated. Now that she was conscious again, he expected her to kick him out at any moment, and was astonished that she had allowed back into her room at all. He looked in her wardrobe and found a pyjama which he handed to her, then turned his back so that she could change.

"Do you have some men's clothes that I could borrow?" he asked while waiting and dripping on the carpet.

Holly scoffed behind him. "I thought it was painfully obvious to everyone in town that I had no man in my life, but since you ask, no, I don't have any men's clothes."

"Not even Daniel's stuff?" Roger inquired hesitantly.

"Are you kidding me? I got rid of every last bit of clothes that ever belonged to that freak." She finished buttoning her pyjama top and sat back down on the bed. "You can turn now, I'm done."

"Ok. What I'm going to wear thought? And before you can say it; I'm not leaving you like this."

Holly scratched her left cheek and looked at him. "Don't worry; I'm not so mean as to send you away in this weather with nothing but wet clothes on. You can put my dressing gown; it's the only thing that will fit you."

Roger stared at the pink number lying on the back of a chair. "I don't think so. Just give me a big blanket and I'll manage until my clothes get dry."

"Have it your way, but if I see just an inch of skin that I'm not supposed to see, you're out the door."

Roger mumbled under his breath and took the gown from the chair. Holly closed her eyes and lied back on the bed while he quickly stripped of his clothes and put on the robe. "I look stupid," she heard him say after a few minutes.

She could have laughed if she had not been so tired. Instead, she just smirked and said: "You know; it is a testament to your virility that you still even look remotely like a man in this thing."

"Fine, make fun at me. At least I know that you're back to your cynical self." He grabbed her hand and put her arms around his shoulders. "I'm going to make us some strong black coffee, and you're coming with me. You shouldn't sleep now."

* * *

They were sitting on her couch twenty minutes later with each a huge mug of fuming coffee. Holly, wrapped up in a blanket, had finally stopped shivering.

"Should we go to the hospital, or should I call Ed?" Roger said after taking sip.

"Why?" Holly asked, puzzled.

"You tell me." Roger got up and went to her room, then came back with the bottle of pills. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Oh, that. I took ONE pill, Roger."

"Do you swear? No stomach pumping necessary?"

"Cross my heart. I just had this migraine that wouldn't go away."

"So, let me get this straight. You took a pill, and then you washed it down with a whole bottle of wine?"

Holly gave him a nasty look and wrapped the blanket more tightly around her. "You'd be drinking too if you were alone on your birthday."

Roger looked down in his mug, embarrassed.

"I thought you were done with the migraines," he offered after a while, eager to change the subject.

"I was, but they all came back this summer, after…" her voice trailed off and she scoffed bitterly.

"After you found out about Blake and Ross," Roger said, looking at her with a renewed compassion. He was so caught up in his own affairs that he sometimes forgot how much suffering she was going through. "I won't forget now," he shuddered, "not after tonight, not after seeing her lying on the floor like this."

"You look cold. There are blankets in the chest over there if you want," Holly said, misinterpreting his shivering.

"Thanks, I think I will get one, if only to hide this dressing gown." He took a look at the fire place and added: "And if you don't mind, I think I'll start a fire as well. That should cheer us up."

Holly snuggled under her own blanket and yawned. "Knock yourself out."

Roger got up and went to the fireplace, bringing his mug with him. "Keep on drinking coffee, Holly. I'm not sure that you should be sleeping right now."

"Why not?"

"What if you lose consciousness again?" If you're asleep I won't be able to tell. I'm NOT a doctor, and you don't want me to call Ed," Roger said, putting logs in the fireplace.

"There's no need."

"Are you ashamed of him seeing you like this?" Roger asked, and when she didn't answer, he knew that he had struck a nerve. A part of him wondered why she did not have the same scruples when it came to him, but then again, he reflected, they had been to hell and back together already. A nasty hangover was nothing compared to the states he had seen her in and put her through. Thinking of Santo Domingo, he stuffed the fireplace with crumpled newspapers and threw a match on them, then looked on as the fire slowly started.

"Great! All we need is a bear skin rug and then we're all set," Holly said, smiling at last.

Roger went to the chest to take a blanket and wrapped himself in it before sitting back on the couch. "What triggered your migraine this time?" he asked, looking at her intently.

Holly shook her head, suddenly looking dispirited. "Blake came by earlier." She was now remembering most of her conversation with her daughter, and none of it was good. "I told her things...things that I didn't mean, but terrible things nonetheless."

Roger took hold of one of her hands and squeezed it. "Having seen you two fight countless times, I'm sure that she must have said some pretty nasty things to you too."

Holly shook her head, staring down. "Not like this, Roger. I told her that I didn't love her."

"Oh," Roger whispered, his heart silently breaking for his daughter. "I'm sure she knows deep down that it's not true," he added in a reassuring tone.

"I don't know; she looked terribly upset when she left." Holly got up and started to pace across the room. "Maybe someday things will be good again between us, but right now, I honestly cannot stand the sight of her. Why did she have to come here, tonight, of all nights?"

"Well, it IS your birthday. Maybe she wanted to make amends."

"Maybe, but all she did was stand there, demanding to be forgiven, telling me that I had no right to deny her happiness. In the end, I just wanted her to go, so I said...I said that I didn't love her. I just wanted it to be over. I guess it is, now."

"So that's why you called me all those times afterwards?"

Holly sighed and when to sit back down at the other end of the sofa. "Yes. I was going crazy with guilt, and yet, I'm still angry with her. It seemed like my brain was pounding inside of my skull and that it would end up bursting out of it. I just needed to tell someone," she concluded sheepishly, her eyes watering.

"You know you can tell me anything."

"Even this? I'm surprised that you haven't yelled at me yet for being a terrible mother to her," Holly replied, letting out a mirthless laugh.

Roger shifted in his seat, leaning toward her. "You're not a terrible mother. You two just happen to have a rotten relationship right now, because of things that have happened in the past as well as this thing with Ross. You know what I think about that; she screwed up big time. The bottom line, though, is that you'll have to forgive her eventually if you want to move on. You can't stay like this, Holly. It will eat you alive."

A lone tear glided down one of Holly's cheek, and she did nothing to stop it.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Roger added, trying to cheer her up. "Ross might die!"

She glanced at him as if he was mad, then, seeing him grinning, smiled herself. "There's no need for that. I wouldn't mind him moving to Japan, though."

"Or Uranus."

"Even better."

"So you don't care about him anymore?" Roger asked hesitantly, remembering their conversation in the stairwell during the blackout a few months earlier. She had told him then that she was very eager to get Ross back. Of course, it was before she walked on him and Blake in bed.

Holly sniffed. "I don't. I realized that the Ross that I loved doesn't exist anymore, maybe he never did. Anyway, I couldn't care less about him now."

"And yet, you're still mad at Blake."

"Yes, because she did it to hurt me. I don't care if they ended falling in love for real as she claimed. The truth is that she seduced him to get back at me, because she thought that I had caused her to lose Alan-Michael. What kind of daughter does that?" Holly shouted, disgusted.

"Roger Thorpe's daughter?" Roger offered in an effort to make her laugh again.

Holly shrugged. "She's my daughter too." She rubbed her temples, her fingers getting caught in her tangled hair.

"Wait," Roger said before disappearing into the bathroom. "Turn around," he ordered, coming back with a comb and sitting on the couch so that she had her back to him.

"You'll hurt me!" she said, leaning away from him.

"I'll be gentle." He picked a strand of her still wet auburn hair and started to slowly comb through it. As he worked around her, he could feel her body gradually starting to relax until she ended up leaning against him comfortably. When he was done, he put the comb on the coffee table and started rubbing her temples in wide circles. Holly sighed, tilting her head back on his shoulder. Roger held his breath, afraid to break the spell that was making it possible for him to take care of her in this small way.

"How's the migraine now?" he inquired after they had both been gazing at the fire in silence, while he was massaging her head.

"Still there in the background, but it's much better," she mumbled in a barely audible voice. "You know," she added a little more loudly, "Daniel used to have a great trick to help me get rid of migraines. All I needed was a penny. Now, all it reminds me of is him."

"So the trick had become worthless?"

"Makes me want to eat my own head off," she replied as she exhaled deeply under his touch.

Roger looked down at her now peaceful face and resisted the sudden urge to wrap his arms around her. Instead, he kept talking to prevent her from dozing off. "Now that I think of it, one could argue that I wasn't the worse man you have ever been involved with. Surely a psychopath wins the title?"

He felt her shudder against his chest. "I guess you're right. Who knows what Daniel might have ended up doing to me if he hadn't died? Don't kid yourself, though, you're a close second."

A look of grief came over Roger's face like a dark cloud, but Holly could not see it. "How could I ever forget it?" he said. "I'm trying so hard to make it up to you."

"How?" she said, and he could hear the old dryness creeping back into her voice.

"I came here tonight, didn't I? That has to count for something?"

This time there was no mistaking the tension that invaded her body before she stood up to face him. "After I called you SEVEN times! And for the record, I know that you lied to me; there was no business meeting tonight. You dumped me on my birthday so that you could go who knows where with Jenna Bradshaw!"

Roger's shoulders drooped. He was completely and utterly busted.


	3. The Great Disconnect

"How did you know I was with Jenna?" Roger asked, retreating to the other end of the living room and readying himself for a screaming match. He knew better than to deny that he had left Holly high and dry.

Holly threw her blanket on the floor and crossed her arms angrily. "There was a mix-up. The gift that you meant for her was delivered here. A jewelled pin of the American flag. Nice thought, I must admit, and I especially enjoyed the note."

"Oh, no…" Roger said, his expression becoming more and more contrite.

"And I bet that whatever crappy gift you intended for me has been delivered to her hotel. Should make for an interesting topic of conversation the next time you see her, don't you think?"

Roger ran a hand over his face and swallowed hard.

"What is it, Roger? Afraid that you're going to lose your golden ticket?"

"Watch what you're going to say about Jenna, Holly," Roger finally replied, his eyes becoming dangerously dark.

Holly scoffed. "I have nothing against your little princess. In fact, I think I can relate to her. She's as enthralled by you now as I was when we first met. I didn't know back then that you were using me to get ahead in my father's company, like she doesn't know that you're using her to get control of Spaulding Enterprises. She actually thinks that you care; it's touching, really."

"Jealous?" Roger retorted nastily.

"Certainly not."

"You are so full of it, Holly. If you're not jealous, then why are you mad that I spent the night with her instead of you?"

"I'm mad because you lied to me! Why didn't you just tell me that you'd rather be with her tonight?" Holly shouted despite the throbbing pain reappearing in her head.

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"You did. Do you know what it's like when everyone that you care about end up hurting you? Oh, they never mean it, and yet you're the one ending up half-dead on the floor while they're having the time of their lives, God knows where."

"Are you talking about me? Or about Ross and Blake?"

"All of you! You all say that you care but you don't, not really. Not when it counts," Holly said bitterly, turning away from him.

Roger closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "You are being so unfair! How many times have I tried to get closer to you? To take care of you, to LOVE you?"

She shook her head but did not answer.

"And yet every time that I do, you push me away. You can't have it both ways, you know. You can't run away from me and then complain that you're alone."

Holly grabbed her hair with her hands and Roger could feel the tension in her shoulders from across the room. "It's just that you always end up asking too much of me in return for your love, Roger."

"Loving me back is too much to ask?"

Holly faced him, and he could see despair in her eyes, and panic, and also a silent request for him to understand her.

"Yes." She walked to the fireplace and gazed at the fire. "It's like you want to own me completely, all of me."

"I just want to be close to you, that's all."

"The last time that I let you that close, you ripped me to pieces." Memories of the rape flashed in both of their minds.

"I'm not like that anymore, Holly, and you know that. People evolve, people get better. I'm not as tortured as I was then."

"But you're still devoured by ambition, and lust too. Why would I willingly submit myself to that kind of hurt again? You always end up choosing something or someone else over me."

"Not always."

"You did tonight."

"Did I? And yet here I am," Roger said, his heart racing.

The conversation was starting to take a toll on him. He wasn't sure that it was wise to open this particular door, now that he was so close to getting his hands on Spaulding again, because the only way that he could get control of the company was through Jenna's heart. And yet, if Holly were to tell him that she wanted him after all…how could he ever hope to resist her? And if he did go back to her, would he resent her for making him lose all this money? Would he end up hurting her like she claimed? He honestly did not know, and that was his own private tragedy.

"We're both scared of losing something here, Roger," Holly said, as if reading his thoughts. "For you it's power, and for me, it's self-respect. If you were ever to make a fool of me again, it would kill me," Holly said. She blinked and tears started to run down her cheeks, slowly at first, then more and more freely. Before Roger had time to realize it, her body had become shaken by uncontrollable sobs.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, walking up to her and taking her in his arms.

"It's not okay," Holly managed to say choppily between fits of sobbing. "How can we ever be happy, being the way we are?" she asked.

Roger sighed and held her tighter, feeling like crying himself. She was right; he couldn't foresee the day when they could have it all, being the way they were.

* * *

It took the better part of the next hour for Holly's tears to finally dry up, and Roger held her close to him for the whole time, never letting go. They were now sitting next to each other on the couch, watching the fire gradually die down.

"My headache is gone," Holly stated after a while.

"I bet it is. You got something off your chest tonight; we both did."

"And yet, we're still going to go back to our lives tomorrow as if nothing had happened," Holly said in a flat voice.

"Not really. Being honest with each other is always good, Holly. The truth shall set you free, remember? It makes us move forward. I won't forget our conversation."

Holly glanced at him sideways to see if he was in earnest. "Well, I won't if you won't," she finally said with a smile.

He smiled in return and ran a finger around her face, putting a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"And while we're being honest, Holly, there is something else that I want to make clear," he added, becoming serious again.

"What?"

"I love you, Holly, in spite of it all."

Holly blushed and stammered, but forced herself not to look away. "I…"

"It's okay. I know you won't say it back, or that you can't say it back, but I know what's in your heart. I can see it in your eyes; it's the same feeling that I get when I look at you. That despite our differences, and other people, and despite the whole wide world; despite the fact, even, that we're physically apart, we're still connected. Forever. There's no breaking us apart, because we ARE united. It's done; it won't change, or break, or alter.

They looked at each other for what seemed like the longest time, and, even if Holly did not reply, Roger could feel that she was silently agreeing with him. That was all she could give him at that point: to not deny that they loved each other.

"You just have to have faith that things will turn out alright in the end. You have to trust that life will find a way," he added.

Holly looked into his eyes. Her whole being wanted to believe him. "I sure hope that you're right."

"Come here," he finally said, reaching for her hand and pulling her, unresisting, to him. "I won't ask anything of you tonight."

"I'm tired," Holly murmured, as he gathered her into his arms and they both lay next to each other on the couch.

"I know," he replied, brushing his lips against hers, lingering for a few seconds on her mouth. "It's going to be better tomorrow."

THE END

_I realize that this is not the happing ending that we're all hoping for, but i hope that you will like it all the same. This is a period in their life where they were still struggling with their feelings, and a part that I thought was very interesting on the show. I just had the urge to make them say out loud what they seemed to be thinking and feeling back then. Maybe I have it all backwards, but it's my interpretation :)_


End file.
